


The Kind of Thing That Goes

by Savorysavery



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Erotica, M/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Despair, Slash, Smut, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery





	The Kind of Thing That Goes

**Summary:** Sometimes, people are just energy: ever moving, ever acting.

 **Genres:** Romance, Smut, Erotica

 **Rated:** Explicit/NC-17

 **Warnings:** Kissing, Anal Sex

 

 **Author's Note:** This was written to [Bend Over by Lil' Jon and Tyga.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGUX7cIMwoM) There's not  **any** substance here: just two boys, in the future when despair is an afterthought, and they're first for once, are getting it on. Here's to pwp, am I right?

* * *

 

It goes like this.

They're sitting down after yet another session of counseling, and are feeling, as always, rubbed raw by the notion of " **recovery** ". It's an odd sensation: sunlight pressing itself up against the thin veil between skin and muscle, a sensitive feeling that makes them both feel like maybe, grasping at the old - _that_ old, not Junko old- is possible. It's what pushes back against the dementia, the luck that slows the process of losing memories and thoughts and touch to a trickle. It's what pushes back the scars, what lightens them on Hinata's forehead.

It's the kind of thing that, they think, is perfect for leading into something.

It doesn't take much: Komaeda's legs shake -he's always shaking, body shuddering more often than not as it tries to accept and reject the bodily horror of The Tragedy- and he missteps, but Hinata is there, catching him. his hand ghosts over Komaeda's hips on the grab, pulling him flush to his back as they settle into a solid stance. "Oh," Komaeda breaths, and he turns his grey-green eyes on Hinata, and something **darkens**.

It's the first time they've touched in weeks, after all: isolation is kind of a bitch like that.

They're both so frantic, you know? all kisses, biting at lips, teeth clacking painfully, hands grabbing at clothes, legs tangling as Komaeda backs Hinata to the bed. it's still last names first: all proper manners and attitudes. But that's slipping now as Komaeda's cool, always clammy hand slides up Hinata's side, and he lets out a cry of "Nagito!" loud enough that anyone in the Future Foundation offices can hear their patients, can hear the hope lighting up through the haze of old despair. They feel their bodies warm, and that hope, that orgastic light changes into hot, intense energy, and suddenly, it's all Komaeda can do to get his clothes off, to get Hinata nude. He's keening -Hinata, that is- and is calling for  **Nagito** this time, for them to be rutting on the couch, and Komaeda wants that: wants it so bad it hurts.

Hospital gowns take nothing to come off, as do the robes they wore over them, or the basic, bleach white underwear they both sport. It takes minimal effort to divest themselves and settle on that couch, for Hinata to go on all fours and let Nagito  **devour** him.

Nagito doesn't worry about preparing Hinata: he honestly cant' think about it, plus the moment his fingers ghost over that tight pucker, he feels the slick of lube and knows that between their sessions -they broke for lunch and individual meetings- Hinata slicked up that tight channel just for  **this moment** in hope that they'd engaging in closer skinship. "Hurry," Hajime -Nagito is comfortable, and formality is dropped now- groans and he bucks back, making Nagito gasp softly. And then Nagito is sliding in quick, desperate, and they're both back to rutting.

It deosn't start slow: Hajime instantly sets to pushing back against Nagito, panting softly, trying to get as much friction he can. He's desperate -they both are- and impatient, and it's wonderful because Nagito feels dropp on his chin, and knows his  **body** thinks so too. It's fast, hard  **fucking** , the kind that Togami and Kirigiri wouldn't let them get away with: it's the kind of thing that the twosome can only do alone, when they've been given time to "reflect" for themselves.

Hajime's anus is a high  **brighter** and  **better** than any kind of dark  **despair** , a memory that burns through killing, gore, and blood, a kind of sensation that nearly pushes Nagito to instantly orgasm immediately after the thought. It's cliche, but it's the clutching heat, the blinding tension, and the moans that fall from Hajime's lips as he ruts back into Nagito. Hajime is the kind of precious thing in the word that makes Nagito want to  **fight** for the Future Foundation, the kind of whole body experience that makes despair  **wrong**. It reminds him that, even though the dementia devouring his prefrontal cortex, he can always remember this: Hajime's back bowing, pink lips parted, ahoge curling, hips canting, a mess of white beneath him as he rides himself to a blinding orgasm, all brought on by the  **hope** of Nagito. 

It's also the thing that pushes him over, sends him howling with a mess of static-filled stutters that drop him heavily into pleasure, sink him into a sea of light. It seems to stretch on forever, and endless bliss, and Nagito lets it recharge him, lets it become his sun. At some point, he pulls out with a _squelch_ and Hajime groans, anus flexing. Nagito knows they aren't done, and he's fine with that: they've been given two days to themselves, and he plans to use them and Hajime equally for pleasure.

"Hey there," Hajime breaths out, looking over to Nagito. He smiles and sighs, quirking a brow. "You doing alright?"

"Just happy that someone like me can end up with you." Hajime's brow tightens, and Nagito sees the sadness in his eyes, as if them working together to overcome the past has been nothing. As if the past **four**  years of trying to regain their humanity has been  **nothing**. But Nagito knows it isn't what he means at all, and he clears his throat to say it."It's not like that," Nagito clarifies, and he feels something fill him up again. "It's that I'm glad that  _I_ could be with  _you_. That someone like me who's done so many...distasteful things could be with you. Maybe you  _are_ the Ultimate Hope, because certainly...you're saving me."

"Heh, I'd rather leave that to Naegi," Hajime chuckles. "I'm alright with being the Ultimate Boyfriend though," he quips, and a dainty, pink blush dusts his cheeks. "That's a nice title, right?"

It's the kind of thing that makes Nagito laugh, a clear sound that's not at all hinting at despair: it's pure, frenetic light pouring from his lips, and it makes Hajime hug him tight, relishing the moment until they generate it again.


End file.
